


Special Day

by laughingmilk



Category: 91 Days (Anime)
Genre: Intercrural Sex, Knifeplay, M/M, Masochism, Sadism, Unsanitary, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-18 00:22:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13670397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laughingmilk/pseuds/laughingmilk
Summary: //Happy Valentines!! I had a lotta fun writing this even if I'm suuuper rusty at writing after all this time. It's, uh, pretty gross but thats ok it's Fangpente. Enjoy!





	Special Day

A young dame and a dashing gentleman hand in hand down the dew-dotted pathway; A scene set in a street that would be inhabited by solely by cooing voices and reddened expressions on the special day. That day was technically today - February the 14th - However, it was about 2am in the morning and any pair out at this time were more likely to have a customer-patron relationship than a lovey-dovey one. Neither were the case for them. A grimy, darkened alleyway would be the spot for tonight. Yes, this was hard work, but they got paid well for it.   
  
A manic giggle cut through the early morning chill. Their victim flew and crashed right into two overflowing trash cans. The blond was even more worked up than usual, seeing as this was a special occasion for the two. A different kind from the aforementioned one though. The younger man forcefully stepped at their victim's chest, grinding the heel of his cow-skin boots into the man's thinly clothed chest. They had dragged him out of his bed, pulled him into the back. A middle-aged chap who'd run off with a small loan from the local family and yet didn't want to repay it. All this to 'upkeep the Family's reputation' as the Head put it. The money sure as hell wasn't a matter. Fango and Serpente's services weren't cheap. A beating would be cheaper than a kill.   
  
Tonight, a clean kill. Slit his throat and be done with it - And tonight was special, because for once, Serpente would be the one to deal it.    
  
Fango always did the killing. Not so much out of deliberate roles but more so that the man simply had no impulse control. Give him a gun, but don't expect it to return with all barrels still full. Give him a knife and prepare to spend a good hour scrubbing blood off it after.

The poor man Fango had kicked down continued to pant heavily. He choked on a mixture of his own blood and saliva as he spoke, his eyes pleading. "Please, please spare me-" He squeaked, flinched as Fango stepped back. Hope flooded his eyes all at once - Only to drain as quick as they came. Fango squatted before the man, face dangerously close now.    
  
"Serpente," The skinnier of the two stepped forward. Fango shifted to the side and Serpente knew to join his side. Lowering himself to the same level, he felt Fango place a hand on his shoulder. "Knife."   
  
Serpente nodded, brandishing a clean, pristine knife from his coat. The handle was carved like a snake, with the tip being the snake's rearing head. Fango grinned to himself, catching glimpse of his own gift. Finally Serpente would get to put it to good use. Fango stood up, looking down on his partner and the crying, cowering man he'd kill.    
  
Except Serpente was still. He held a neutral stance, non-threatening. Seeing this the man seemed to relax if only by a bit.

"Please sir, spare me. Don't do it. Don't-" The second bout of pleads was cut short as Fango stomped on the man's right hand, grinding his fingers into the concrete ground. The man's face contorted into anguish.    
  
"Serpente." The man tensed and brought up his knife. "Hold it to his throat."    
  
"Please." It was no more but a whimper now. The snake-eyed man did as told, feeling Fango shift behind him. Felt his eyes on him. The man shook his head. Those eyes bore only fear. He was an animal, lowly livestock, who could do little to resist his fate. Louder this time, "Push it in."

  
"No." Through a quiet choke. He couldn't shake his head - It would penetrate him. That long, cold rod of a restraint.

"Maybe if you beg." Serpente half-grinned, speaking for the first time that night. "But don't try to move." The man stiffened and gulped, his thoughts going faster than he could process them. Tears were already starting to spill. "P-Please…" The man sniffled, sobs getting louder and louder. "Please, please," 

"Not quite doing it for me." 

  
Red dribbled down the blade, the man backing away as best he could. Every inch he moved back, Serpente pressed two more in and before he knew it he had nowhere left to lean back into. Maybe he said something - At this point it all sounded like squeaks and gibberish. He felt a pair of hands come to hold him, a staccato of hot breaths against his earlobe.

"Do it, Serpente." It sounded like a whisper, yet so loud -    
  
The blade cut cleanly through. The man's hot flesh split open, red muscle exposed to the world, his fluids trickling down whilst his last hot breath left him.    
  
Serpente let out a sharp laugh. He looked so pathetic. So weak, so vulnerable.   
  
One split second later, and all he saw was Fango.   
  
The blond spun him around and pulled him up roughly, pushing him up against the wall. No time to think. Fango's lips crashed into his, sucking out all the breath he had. The man trailed down after a minute, sucking at Serpente's neck, breath shaky. He grabbed a fistful of Fango’s hair and tugged him up.    
  
Sweaty and flushed, an ecstatic smile was plastered on his red face. He giggled, perpetually, reaching for Serpente's blood-covered hand. His fingers closed around Serpente's wet ones.    
  
"Hey, Serpente, sweetheart," Through shallow breaths and a high pitched almost-snicker, hazy pupils curtained by clumps of dulled gold strands. “Ya did that on purpose? Ya got me worked up, y’know…” Fango brought up Serpente’s slack hand, held the knife to his own throat, and laughed in the face of that crimson point. 

“I did what?” Serpente didn’t shift his hand. Held it still.

“This.” he tilted his head back, hair falling away to reveal the expanse of his neck. Serpente could feel each breath as Fango dragged his hand along, blade tracing a semicircle along that tan skin. He felt a lump pass by under the surface as the blond swallowed a lump. A thin, hairline of a scratch let itself be known. Red beads of blood threatened escape, but ultimately stayed just behind bars. Serpente looked up, eyes trailing from red to flesh to pink lips parted in a euphoric grin. 

“Fango…” The man’s breath hitched upon hearing his name. His eyes were half lidded, looking at his shorter partner with nothing short of animalistic lust. Eyes that screamed,  _ take me, tear me apart like you did to that man.  _ His grip on Serpente relaxed, just as the other pushed forward to flip their positions.

Being forced up against the gritty wall, Fango let out a shaky breath and a thrilled laugh. He couldn’t get in a word even if he tried. In a second, he felt his breath ripped from his lungs. Serpente’s thin lips latched his neck, sucking at the shallow incision, irritating it. He drunk Fango up - All of him. His thick blood, his thin air, his erratic moans and the way the man bucked his hips against his pant leg. He parted after a moment, a thin strand of saliva lazily trailing along.

He could read Fango loud and clear - The way he shivered and bit his lip, looked down and up and swallowed purposefully. 

Grabbing another fistful of Fango’s hair, he forced the man to his knees, savouring the way he gasped. “Serpe-” He wasn’t allowed to finish. Serpente lodged the blade in between Fango’s two set of teeth, holding his mouth open wider than comfortably possible. He kept his thumb on Fango’s chin, while his free hand moved to undo his pants. Freeing himself, still soft, he watched Fango fidget like an over-enthused dog.

“Don’t spill any.” Even around the knife, he could see Fango break into that same sleazy cheshire grin. He’d surely have said some semi-witty, semi-sexual comeback if not for how his jaws were locked into place right now. 

Serpente’s eyes stalked Fango as he shuffled forward on his knees, hands placed on either side of Serpente’s hips. Eyes closed and chin angled upwards ever so slightly. Ready to receive, to take upon himself Serpente’s offering. He aimed and released himself. A steady stream of gold that flooded Fango’s waiting mouth as if a cup to be filled. "You're so pretty like this, on your knees, drinking my piss." He could see Fango shifting, only getting off on Serpente's words.

Fango’s throat gav way, his adam’s apple bob rhythmically as the liquid entered him and his eyes - Like the eyes of a parched man offered water for the first time in weeks. Worshipping. "Take it all in, every last drop… Good boy."

The last bits trickled down his throat into his now bloated stomach. A small bump visible, pushing against his white button-up. Laboured breaths drifted about the dark alleyway.

Serpente carefully dislodged the knife from where it settled itself in a crevice between Fango’s teeth. The moment the man’s sore jaws were freed, he sputtered and coughed. A brown sleeve came up to wipe at his lips and chin. 

“Thanks for the meal.” He laughed hoarsely, voice raw. Though still slack he opened his mouth wide again, closing in on his stilled partner. “I think I’ll have dessert.”

His tongue was almost like a cat’s. Rough, might as well be barbed, and flexible as all hell. It darted out of its spread cavern and headed straight for its target. Wrapping itself around Serpente’s head, it would dance around the cap, coating it in a nice, thin layer. As Serpente hardened, Fango’s ministrations extended down onto the underside of the shaft. For as much as his tongue resembled a feline’s, his eagerness was like a loyal dog’s. A blond head of hair bobbing away. On occasion he’d look up for a second, and that  _ look _ in his upturned eyes almost sent Serpente off the edge. The baby-like suckling took him up to a high and all at once - just left him there.

"Fango."  _ What do you think you're doing?  _ Pointed eyes seemed to imply. Fango staggered up, giggling dizzily, and turned his back to Serpente. 

_ Fuck me.  _ He waved his hips ever so slightly, placed both arms, elbows on the wall and nudged at Serpente's erection. A trembling exhale. He raised those arms above his head and looked back. A pleading, desperate expression. Desperate like that man, screaming, begging;  _ Fuck. me. _

"Do it, Serpente." 

"...Strip. Bottom half only." The man commanded simply and did no more. He watched Fango fumble with his belt, pull off layers of clothing till his bare legs and ass were exposed to the cold air and Serpente's colder gaze. Fango's tensed body stood still against the wall, waiting for any touch, any sign.

Serpente exhaled, and almost as if on command his body relaxed with a shiver. "Push it in" He croaked half-frustrated and half-dizzy still.

His eyes widened. Feeling his wrists grabbed, held together and pulled up above his head in a restraint. Something pushed itself in. No - He was still empty, painfully empty. Serpente thrust himself right under Fango's rump, right between his thighs, right in such a terribly wrong place.  

"Ser-Serpente, what the fuck?" He barked, irritable.

"I felt like using your thighs today. Don't complain." There was a teasingly playful tone to Serpente's words as he slowly thrust himself, in, out, in, out of the tiny gap between Fango's muscled thighs. 

It wasn't long after that Fango was responding. Grinding his hips back in accordance to Serpente's rhythm - Squeezing his own thighs. Serpente's hard dick would rub up along the underside of his own slowly growing one every now and then. He craved those moments. Squeezing down so hard it was like he was milking Serpente's cock. Squirming, twisting his hips. Strained breaths spilled from his grit teeth. Almost-moans and whines of anger. The longer they went, the closer Fango felt himself get to the wall - Until his stomach was pressed up against it. He shivered and squirmed. It was like he was about to burst. His stomach, so bloated, pushed up against the wall with every thrust. "Serpente, I'm gonna, I'll-"

"Do it then." He could almost hear the smirk and it made him burn up. "I'll help you." Releasing Fango's wrists, he trailed his hands down the man's torso, till they reached his belly. His skinny fingers tapped along the little bump and gradually pushed against it. Pressing down, leaving their indents along his crumpled white shirt. 

Fango's breath hitched. He put his forehead to the wall, bending at his knees. He could feel it welling up in his stomach. The liquid sloshing around, begging for escape. Harder, harder, like a balloon about to burst - Serpente kept pushing and pushing and _ pushing. _

"Serpente, Serpente - !" The sensation of being filled crashed into him like a wave - Serpente's cock; God, his cock, drilling into Fango with such urgency and force that it made him lurch forward. The heat building up in his abdomen burned so hot it could scald.  "Ah- Ah, ah!" Every other thrust angled itself at his prostate. He watched his brown feather necklace dangle and jump in the air as his body jerked forward with each assaulting shove. He let out a breathy moan, the warm stream of piss he'd been restraining trickling down his legs, dipping in the curve of his clenched thighs.

Serpente felt himself close too - Awfully close. "Fuck, Fango..." He groaned, "Stop getting so tight, you fucking slut… You're so filthy. Covered in your own piss, moaning like a bitch in heat. Getting so damn hard from being treated like scum.” He only whimpered, tightening up even more in response.

“God. God you’re so goddamn greedy…” he felt Fango all around his cock. Buried all the way to the hilt. So close. He peered over Fango’s shoulder, catching sight of the other man’s stiff erection. 

A sharp inhale could be heard as Fango felt Serpente’s fingers close around him. He started to pump, twist, palm at the throbbing hard-on and at the same time his thrusting got faster and faster eventually going off-beat. He felt Serpente shudder behind him. With a heaving breath, a warm, thick liquid quickly coated his insides. Shortly after he came with a yelp into Serpente’s hand. 

Both coming down from their highs still, Serpente composed himself as best he could and looked to Fango. The blond’s knees finally gave way. He had crumpled down onto the floor, chest heaving with each pant. 

For a while it was just that - Breathing. Their odd, unpaced breaths just mingling with the cool air, either one two beats off of synchronization. It was Fango’s little cackle of a laugh that broke it.

“We made a bigger mess than planned, huh?” He shifted to pull his pants on haphazardly, not bothering with the buckle.

“And who’s fault do you think that is…”

The only response was a mad giggle, the perpetual giggler leaning in for a kiss. Serpente half-heartedly shoved him aside.

“Fuck off, you smell like piss.”

“And... who’s fault do you think that is?” 

He grumbled to show his displeasure as he stood up. He extended a hand to the still sitting Fango. “Can ya walk?”

Fango sneered. “Your dick ain’t that big, Serp.” 

Regardless, he grabbed hold of Serpente's hand and let himself be pulled up. Serpente propped the man against himself. Neither said anything the walk home. Nothing but two breaths, walking. 


End file.
